United States or Australia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
"'Marster, I l'arns dat it's a sin fer ter steal, er ter lie, er fer ter want w'at doan b'long ter yer; en I l'arns fer ter love de Lawd en ter 'bey my marster. "Mars Dugal' sorter smile' en laf ter hisse'f, like he 'uz might'ly tickle' 'bout sump'n, en sezee: "'Doan 'pear ter me lack readin' de Bible done yer much harm, Dave. Dat 's w'at I wants all my niggers fer ter know.
Dey picked out de likeliest gal dey could fine 'mongs' de fiel-han's, en' 'cose dat wuz Cindy. Cindy wuz might'ly tickled fer ter be tuk in de house-sarvice, fer it meant better vittles en' better clo's en' easy wuk. She didn' seed Skundus quite as much, but she seed 'im w'eneber she could.
"Yas'm, come off an' furgot twenty-fi' cents dat I wanted to fetch wid me. I owes er quarter ter er crap-shootin' nigger ober dar, an' when I kain't pay him he gwine retch his han' up atter my wool. I doan want no big nigger retchin' atter me, caze I ain't right well dis mawin'. Co'se ef I wuz well I wouldn' mine it so much, but ez it is, it bodders me might'ly.
He wuz might'ly nigh gittin' inter trouble mod'n once fer gwine ter sleep in de fiel'. I never seed his beat fer sleepin'. He could sleep in de sun er sleep in de shade. He could lean upon his hoe en' sleep. He went ter sleep walk'n' 'long de road oncet, en' mighty nigh bus't his head open 'gin' a tree he run inter.
"W'en Mars Dugal' hearn 'bout de ham, he say he wuz might'ly 'ceived en disapp'inted in Dave. He say he wouldn' nebber hab no mo' conferdence in no nigger, en Mars Walker could do des ez he wuz a mineter wid Dave er any er de res' er de niggers.
I worked a piece of land year before last over on the creek near a field that belonged to him, and sir, the hired feller that delved and swetted thar 'peered like he thought it was a great privilege to drag himself over the ground that belonged to McElwin. He p'inted him out one day as he driv along in a buggy and when my eyes didn't pop out of my head he was might'ly 'stonished.
I'm gwine ter look at dat newspaper dey be'n talkin' 'bout, an' 'less'n my min' changes might'ly, I'm gwine ter keep my mouf shet an' stan' in wid de Angry-Saxon race, ez dey calls deyse'ves nowadays, an' keep on de right side er my bread an' meat. Wat nigger ever give me twenty cents in all my bawn days?"
Word Of The Day